Roads to You

I remember feeling cold. And lonely. Of course, I had always been lonely, but that was bearable - it was preferred actually. But this...this was terrible.
I remember the irony. It was the beginning of spring, when life renews and prospers. Everything is new and green and bright and wonderful - happy. At least, that was what it was supposed to be.
At the time, I was sad, and angry. I was mostly angry at myself. Was there something I could have said? Something I could’ve done differently? That phone call. The last time I ever talked to him. I wish it didn’t even get to that point, I wish I just accepted him from the beginning. But I was stubborn and distant and often mean although I didn’t intend to be.
He tried to fix me. He tried to get me to see the world as he saw it - beautiful. Full of opportunity, life. I see it now, but the worst part is, I see it without him. I want to tell him that he’s changed me. I want him to hold me and tell me everything’s okay.
I’m standing in the same place as I did the year before. It’s spring again. I hate springtime and the irony it brings. I close my eyes and remember, because I’m already forgetting. I’m losing him. I can’t forget him.
I look up for a moment, drawn back out of my mind by a sudden gust of wind. I shudder, although I’m not terribly cold. This used to be one of my favorite spots, I think, then stop myself, and quickly wipe that thought from my mind. I focus on his face, fuzzy now. It doesn’t look quite right, although I can’t pinpoint exactly what I think is wrong. I try to focus on specific features. The ears. The nose. The mouth. His eyes. Dark hazel. The kind of eyes that bring warmth and comfort.
My own eyes start to fill with tears and I hastily wipe them away. I’m not here to be a blubbering mess. Slowly I sit down, criss cross on the ground. The sun’s bright overhead, maybe one or two in the afternoon and after a moment I decide to fall back, and I close my eyes, feeling the grass tickle my ears.

Miles was a strange kid. I remember when he showed up late to class one day, a whirlwind of energy. I as usual, was in the corner of the room, no doubt being surly and unapproachable. I only looked up long enough to notice the sloppy way he dressed as if he picked up the first crumpled items off of his floor and threw it on. My eyes travel upwards to catch a glimpse of his face, and are instantly met with his. I quickly looked down but I still felt his eyes on me, even as he took his seat. Class moved painfully slow and I was aware of my every movement.
The bell rang after what seemed like hours, and I tried to rush out of the door only to have an arm reach out to grab me. I spun around and Miles smiled at me.
“Hey.” he said. I stared at his hand on my arm and looked back up at him, saying nothing and probably looking like a stunned deer.
He apologized and let go of my arm. “I’m Miles.” he started again.
I just nodded. “I know.” I didn’t offer my name. An uncomfortable pause started to swell up and was only broken by Caleb, my best and only friend, who popped his head in the doorway, a saving grace.
“Bethany! Hurry up!” Noticing Miles, Caleb grinned. “I see you’ve met my study buddy. Miles isn't so great at science, so I thought I’d help him out. He’s the guy I’ve been telling you about.”
I mumbled something about how I never remembered hearing about Miles or something along those lines. I was never really paying attention.

I remember a chilly fall day at the graveyard, where I used to spend most of my time. I was sitting on a stone bench cross legged and I had my ukulele with me. It had been a rough day at school and I was generally miserable. Caleb had even left early due to a sickness, so I had no one to talk to during classes. Breathing deeply, I started to play one of my favorite songs. I strummed a few of the chords while I hummed the tune. Leaves fell around me and gently blew along the pavement, rustling and filling up the space where my own sound could not. Eyes closed, I start to sing quietly, my fingers knowing exactly where they need to go along the uke.
A twig snaps, and I’m pulled out of the deepest corner of my head, acutely aware of my surroundings.
“You’re really good.” A voice comes from behind me and I turn around to see Miles, looking sheepish. I set down my ukulele and turn around. Miles walks around the bench to face me. I hadn’t talked to him since that one time in class.
“What do you want?” I ask not looking up.
“Did I scare you? I’m sorry if I did.” Miles said, ignoring my question. “I just thought you sounded really nice.”
I can still feel the embarrassment rising up, even now at the thought of someone listening to me sing. My face now glows bright red with heat. I remember telling him to leave me alone. He persisted, and eventually I let him stay. He sat next to me.
“So how did you learn to play and sing like that?” Miles tried.
“My father taught me.” A long uncomfortable pause and I didn’t say anymore. I was still flustered that he had heard me. A few moments later and I ask “Why are you here anyway?”, swallowing down my embarrassment. Now he looked uncomfortable.
“I was looking for a shortcut home.”
“Where do you live?”
“Birch Street.”
I let myself smile for a moment. “That’s on the other side of town.” Miles looked up at the sky, and I like to think that he was silently cursing himself for not thinking up a better excuse.
“Did you follow me?” I asked. He shook his head, too fast, then took a moment to think.
“Unless you think that’s romantic?” He paused and looked at me, waiting for an answer. I smiled and shook my head. “Then no, I did not follow you here.” He grinned. I laugh and push the hair away from my face.